20 December 2012
Our times together were always stolen,
Brief encounters that occured at random,
Selected, it seemed, from chance's cards,
Fleeting moments that were never planned.
Beneath the staircase as we walked to class,
Or at the bus stop where the rain would fall,
As a blanket draped over everything in a room,
Packed snuggly in a box soon to be shipped away,
They were pockets in the garment of time,
Single lightbulbs in an empty corridor Or a star engulfed by seas of ebony
Yet they were precious, like a candlelight guarded,
A furnace burning within a freezing room,
Fed lovingly still in our silent existence,
Anticipation for the next, inevitable collision,
We'd take each other in, unashamed.
Truly looking, happiness bursting at the seams.
It were these moments, of mutual understanding,
With parallel thoughts and corresponding smiles
When we'd both hug each other a little too tight,
For a little too long,
Before walking away,
Never saying the words
We both wanted to hear,
Saving it for the next time,
Holding it for the next time,
Testing Fate's patience,
By waiting for the next time,
Always the next time.
Next Time • Opuss № I